


worse than nicotine

by PlayerTwoHeere



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: ((spoiler: Michael doesn’t love this boy)), Angst, Blood, Jeremy is an upset boy, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Mentions of drugs, don’t do this kids, hanahaki, he does bad things, i like to torture my boy, i should be banned from the jeremy protection squad, i was listening to Panic! At The Disco while writing this, it’s tagged for violence because like, i’m a sadist, jeremy just wants to be loved, lowkey a vent fic, mICHAEL LOVE THIS BOY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 09:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14281926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlayerTwoHeere/pseuds/PlayerTwoHeere
Summary: Michael held out the joint and the lighter, a smuggled beer can popped open at his side. The lazy grin on Michael’s face made Jeremy’s heart simultaneously leap and twinge. The smile that Jeremy would never see as anything more than friendly. He remembered the cool feeling of the Zippo lighter in his hands as he flicked it open, lighting the weed cigarette between Michael’s lips. Michael’s eyes were closed, but he took a drag of the joint. “Y’know, some people say weed’s worse than cigarettes, but nothing’s worse than nicotine.” Michael said nonchalantly.Jeremy’s eyes opened again. Michael, for him, was worse than nicotine. Worse than weed, or alcohol, or any other drugs.





	worse than nicotine

Jeremy Heere was fucked. He looked up into those eyes, the ones he had seen millions of times over the years- bloodshot from weed, hazy with sleep, wide awake with the excitement of beating another level of Apocalypse of the Damned, with sparks and stars in them when Marley was playing. Jeremy felt like he could drown in them on a normal day, but this time was different. Michael was drunk, and high, and God knows what else he was on right now. He wasn’t thinking straight- of course, Michael never did, not in that sense, but that was the only reason this was happening. Jeremy knew that, but he did nothing to stop it.

Michael’s lips crashed against his, somehow soft and rough all at once. Jeremy could taste the alcohol and weed on his best friend’s breath, and his brain short circuited. He let it happen, just for a second, losing himself in the heat of the moment, the only moment he could allow himself to have with Michael, ever. He found himself kissing back, he needed this.

Then Michael’s mouth opened, and a low moan of a name escaped his lips, and Jeremy realized. This was wrong, this was Michael. Michael was dating someone else. This was cheating. He felt his chest tighten, but it was more than that. The familiar ache in his lungs, the feeling of something creeping up his windpipe, threatening to erupt out of his mouth if he wasn’t careful. He shoved Michael away, crying. When had he started to do that? It didn’t matter. He raced out of the room, shutting himself in his bathroom, slamming the door shut. His hand pressed against his mouth, trying to keep it down, for once in his life. 

But out it came, a single, perfect white blossom, falling to the floor gracefully as Jeremy doubled over in pain. Blood followed the flower, splattering on the familiar tile floor of Jeremy’s childhood. It hurt like hell. His lungs were on fire, and he could feel more. He couldn’t breathe, all he could taste was the salty iron of his own blood. And it was all because Michael didn’t love him- not like that, at least. 

It had all started at the end of junior year, a few months after the SQUIP incident. Christine, in all her hyper glory, had been a flop of a girlfriend. She was sweet, and pretty, and a great friend, but nothing more. She had been the girl of his dreams, when she was unattainable. But once he had her, there was no pretending anymore. A few dates, then Jeremy broke it off. 

Then the flowers started, and the realization hit Jeremy like a ton of bricks. The denial was so strong at first, but the flower petals on his bedroom floor after a phone call with his best friend served as a newsflash for the boy. Petals was how it began. Tiny, velvety petals, small and fragile and oddly beautiful. They were easy to hide, in his hand or his sleeve or a tissue or under his desk when his dad walked in, that first day. 

But then they got bigger. Tiny buds, small blossoms- still pretty easy to hide, even from Michael. Breathing got a little more difficult, but the asthma inhaler he had from years ago still worked perfectly fine. Once Jeremy hit the six month mark, though, it got worse. Blood started coming up with the flowers, staining his hands and under his fingernails. He stopped eating as much, as the taste of blood put him off meals. Michael noticed, Jeremy knew. He noticed the already thin boy getting even thinner. The coughing, the asthma attacks. He was worried for Jeremy, even brought it up, but Jeremy couldn’t say. How do you tell your best friend that you’re in love with them, especially when they’re dating one of your other friends?

Michael was intoxicating to Jeremy. He always had been- his energy, his loyalty, his intelligence. Everything about him was fascinating. Jeremy found himself staring at the taller boy’s profile more than once- curse his eyes, focusing on what he couldn’t have. 

Jeremy felt a sob rip through his chest as he felt another flower. At this rate, he’d have an entire bouquet. At the thought, he let out a tiny, pained laugh. A bloody bouquet for Michael to lay on his grave. He tried to take a deep breath, but the petals in his throat caught the oxygen, stopping it in its tracks. 

His tongue darted over his lips, trying to get something other than blood. He was met with the taste of Michael- alcohol and weed and an underlying hint of something sweet. He couldn’t get rid of it, the flavour almost making him forget the pain. He let himself hope, to imagine, that it was actually him that Michael wanted to kiss. That Michael hadn’t thought, in his addled mind, that it was his boyfriend. 

Then the flowers in his lungs reminded him that they were there, erupting from his lips, accompanied with more blood. The pain was too much. Jeremy stared at the flower, his hand reaching out to pick it up.

Jeremy turned the white carnation over in his hands. The red of his blood matched Michael’s hoodie, and he suddenly remembered the last thing they had done together, before the kiss. He closed his eyes, a vivid image exploding behind his eyelids.

Michael held out the joint and the lighter, a smuggled beer can popped open at his side. The lazy grin on Michael’s face made Jeremy’s heart simultaneously leap and twinge. The smile that Jeremy would never see as anything more than friendly. He remembered the cool feeling of the Zippo lighter in his hands as he flicked it open, lighting the weed cigarette between Michael’s lips. Michael’s eyes were closed, but he took a drag of the joint. “Y’know, some people say weed’s worse than cigarettes, but nothing’s worse than nicotine.” Michael said nonchalantly.

Jeremy’s eyes opened again. Michael, for him, was worse than nicotine. Worse than weed, or alcohol, or any other drugs. 

Jeremy could still feel the lighter in his pocket, the cold metal pressed against his leg through his jeans. He pulled it out in a haze of pain, looking from the flowers to the lighter back to the flowers. 

Before Jeremy knew what he was doing, the lighter was open, and the flames were licking at the flower petals. His hands shook as more images flashed in his brain. Michael, standing triumphantly on the school stage, holding the Mountain Dew Red aloft. Michael visiting him in the hospital room. The glances Rich sent Michael’s way from the other bed when he thought Jeremy wouldn’t notice. Michael texting him, before Jeremy had come to terms with his crush, asking him if it was worth it to make a move on Rich. The day Michael told him, his eyes lit up like stars, that Rich and him were a couple now. The feeling of his heart ripped out, racing to the bathroom before petals fell from his lips after the stuttered congratulations. Having to watch Michael be happy, ecstatic even, but not with him. 

The flames engulfed the flower, oddly beautiful to Jeremy. Maybe it was the weed, still messing with his brain. The fire creeped up to his hands, burning his fingers, but Jeremy felt numb. Michael liked Rich despite his burns, Jeremy thought. He wondered how that had felt for Rich, the blazing heat, the flames wrapping around him. The flower fell from his fingertips, setting the bathroom rug ablaze. 

He guessed he wouldn’t have to wonder anymore. The flames grew, licking at his sneakers, and Jeremy could only stand there, numb. The smoke didn’t help his breathing, instead making his lungs ache even more. 

Another flower joined the others in the fire, which was burning away at Jeremy’s pant legs. Jeremy hoped Michael got out alright. Sure, he was drunk and high, but maybe that meant he would forget about Jeremy until it was too late. He had already begun to spend more time with Rich than Jeremy, why would he even notice Jeremy’s abscence? 

Jeremy couldn’t breathe, hacking from a combination of smoke inhalation and the flowers clogging his windpipe. He felt his vision blur, the edges going hazy. He finally heard, in the distance, a smoke alarm go off. Maybe Michael would assume it was because of his weed and the curling wisps of smoke from that. 

Then footsteps pounded the stairs, staggered, like someone that wasn’t walking straight. Jeremy collapsed to the floor, the heat making him sweat, the pain unbearable, in both his lungs and skin. Hot tears blazed trails down his cheeks. 

“Jeremy?” Michael’s voice on the other side of the door was slurred and panicked, and he pounded on the door. Jeremy noticed the door handle jiggling. He looked up as the door opened, and Michael was there. Jeremy looked up into the eyes of the boy he loved one last time, but before he could do anything more than give him a pained smile, Jeremy coughed again, catching this flower in his hands. He knew Michael had seen the flower, the blood. Is this how Michael would remember him? On his knees in a bathroom, with a bloody flower cupped in his burned palms, tears streaming down his cheeks. Then Jeremy felt his vision go black, the last sight he saw being his favourite person. Jeremy collapsed sideways into the flames. 

Better to burn than to fade away.

Better to leave than be replaced.

**Author's Note:**

> i’m sorry?? that’s really all i have to say honestly
> 
> ...
> 
> there’s more fluff coming soon i promise
> 
> i’ve just had lots of emotions
> 
> jeremy just kinda got my backlash


End file.
